


Dining At Home

by Ladderofyears



Series: Fictober 2019 [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Boys Kissing, Conversations, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Draco wants to wait and Harry respects that, Experienced Harry, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Virgin Draco Malfoy, eating and drinking, light read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Draco and Harry share an interesting conversation over pasta and several glasses of wine. It's terribly domestic and really rather sweet.





	Dining At Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PollyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollyWeasley/gifts).

> PollyWeasley: You wanted a second story so here is awkward! shy! virgin! Draco just for you. This is unadulterated fluff. 
> 
> This is my eighteenth Fictober story, and is based on the prompt: _I could really eat something._

It had been a long, arduous day at St. Mungos and Draco was exhausted. 

A grotty strain of Dragon Pox was working its steady way through the children of wizarding England and it seemed to Draco that the majority of the afflicted were ending up on the ward that he managed. As he undid his coat and _Reducio’d_ his Healing tools Draco reflected on the plans that he’d made earlier in the week with Harry. 

The two of them were supposed to be meeting Hermione and Ron in _Le Dragon Affame_, a new Elvish restaurant in Wizarding London, but as he examined the tired lines beside his eyes and his lank, greasy hair Draco realised that was simply never going to happen. He wasn’t going to be effervescent company tonight. He’d be lucky if he made it past ten o’clock. 

Modern Medi-wizardry really was marvellous and Draco’s Potions Research Department had worked tirelessly on the potions and remedies for this challenging illness. As a result, the Pox was rarely fatal any more, and most of the sufferers didn’t even have to carry the embarrassing green tinge. Even so, most of the children needed a lengthy stay in hospital. Draco yawned, his mind wandering back to the patients and parents he’d met over the day. 

It was a true privilege, Draco thought, Healing and caring for such small witches and wizards. As a teenager there had been no question of his practising paediatric Medi-wizardry. Draco’s future had lain before him, a path that he didn’t dare to deviate from. The scion of the Malfoy family, Draco had been forbidden from attending university by a Father intent on controlling his every action. 

Draco poured himself a glass of wine, enjoying the first tart taste on his tongue. 

_Domaine de Corteillac Boudeaux_. Draco sighed in appreciation. It was a gorgeous vintage, ripe and blackcurranty and he padded slowly through to the settee to wait for Harry to arrive. The War had changed everything for Draco. Lucius was in Azkaban now, and the Manor had been sold away to pay for legal fees. Draco had seized his new freedom with every ounce of his being, running away to Germany to train in Heidelberg with some of the best paediatric Healers in the world. 

Roused from his thoughts by the floo chimes, Draco looked up and smiled. Harry and he had only been a couple for three months and the pair of them were taking things slowly. 

Harry strode into Draco’s living room, a warm powerful presence that made Draco’s heart beat a little faster every time they met. That evening, Harry had chosen midnight blue formal robes but his wild hair defied any attempt at taming. His emerald green eyes shone when they met with Draco’s own and he smiled shyly. Harry had brought flowers, Draco noticed. _Jonquil and Daffodils_. Narcissi flowers. Harry had remembered his favourites. 

“They’re absolutely beautiful,” Draco said, taking the flowers and inhaling their heavenly scent. “Exactly what I needed after a gruelling day. Let me put them in a vase. Let me get you a drink too… I’m sorry I haven’t got changed. I haven’t been home long. It’s this _blasted_ bloody Dragon Pox, Harry. We have to administer the potions every hour for them to be effective… And for every child we cure, another _two_ floo in. When I checked the time it was an hour past my leaving time-”

“It all sounds awful,” Harry said, following Draco back into the kitchen. He _Accio’ed_ a wine glass of his own and pouring himself out an inch of the Bordeaux. “This wine is delicious. You look all in, love… You go and have a shower. I’ll fire-call ‘Mione. We don’t have to go out tonight, Draco. Tonight I want to look after you.”

~@~

Draco emerged from the shower half an hour later, amused and surprised by the scene before him. 

Harry had obviously Apparated home and now looked considerably less formal in tracksuit bottoms and a soft grey tee shirt. His table had set, and something scrumptious was filling his kitchen with a delicious scent. He felt his belly grumble in hunger, and Draco realised he hadn’t eaten in hours. “I could really eat something,” Draco said from the doorway. “Is there no end to your talents Potter? Saviour, Lead Auror and now _Michelin_ bloody chef?”

Harry laughed, turning round at the sound of Draco’s voice. “Hardly Michelin, but I’m pretty au fait with a few dishes. Enough to impress you at least.” Harry tapped his wand on the side of the saucepan, and murmured a Tempus Charm. “Linguine with anchovies, chilli and garlic. Pretty basic really… This is nearly done, love. Let me top up your glass, and we’ll wait on the settee. You can tell me more about your day.”

But Draco didn’t tell Harry anything else. As soon as they were sat down, Harry's muscular arms snaked around his waist and the two of them began to kiss. Draco wasn’t the most experienced of men, not compared to Harry. He’d spent his teenage years denying and rejecting his attraction to other boys, and then his years at university seizing hold of his dream. Relationships hadn’t ever been on Draco’s agenda before. 

Well, they hadn’t been until Pansy had re-introduced him to Harry. They’d kissed at the end of their first date, Harry’s mouth warm and soft under Draco’s lips. Harry’s tongue had explored Draco’s mouth, slowly but firmly, and Draco had felt himself melt into the experience. Harry and he hadn’t gone any further than kissing yet, but Draco _knew_ that Harry would be his first sexual experience. The kissing was so much better than anything Draco could ever have dared to dream so lovemaking, he imagined, would be even better. 

Draco sat in Harry’s lap, his legs tucked around Harry’s thighs. Harry’s hand was knotted in his hair and as their tongues rolled over one another's, Draco found himself making breathy, excited noises. Harry’s hands were big and they splayed across Draco’s shoulders, holding him close. Something loosened inside Draco, something in his heart unravelled and he kissed Harry hard, wanting to show him how much he was enjoying himself… 

Without warning, the magic of Harry’s Tempus Charm rolled over the pair of them, sudden and unpleasant and Harry broke off their kiss with a grin. “The linguine. I’ll go serve it up now. Don’t look so disappointed, Draco. We can pick up where we left off later but right now you need to eat.”

~@~

Draco sat at his table, and sipped his wine glass, watching as Harry to served generous portions of pasta into two bowls. 

His boyfriend had brought another bottle of wine from home, a _De Grendel Cabernet Sauvignon_, and Harry placed it on the table alongside knives, forks and a large slab of buttery garlic bread. Draco felt his mouth watering at the feast before him, and he eyed the rich linguine hungrily. Normally, Draco made do with sandwiches from the St. Mungos canteen or Sushi from the muggle supermarket, and being waited on like this felt like a rare treat. 

“Thank you,” Draco said as Harry placed his bowl in front of him. “This looks marvellous. I never really cook, to tell the truth. It’s usually a quick takeaway if I’m staying in, or something quick from work. I’m embarrassed to say the Elves did all the cooking when I was a child… I suppose I thought that food appeared by magic until I was about eight or so.”

Harry chewed his pasta thoughtfully and took a sip of his wine before he spoke. “No point in having a home with such a beautiful kitchen without ever using it Draco… I had to cook for my Uncle and Aunt as a child. Food always felt like such a chore; a duty I had to get through. Learnt to read using bloody cookbooks.” Harry took another sip of his wine, and broke off a piece of the garlic bread, wiping it through the sauce at the side of his plate. “But when we left school- and I went into the Aurors- I took it up again. It’s good… You can’t worry when you’re stirring pasta or chopping up veg. Gives me a moment to switch off.”

Draco nodded, and concentrated on eating his linguine. The pasta had more of a kick than he’d been expecting and the flavours and textures complimented each other beautifully. “This tastes fabulous,” he commentated after a moment “Food at home was all the traditional wizarding dishes, and you know how atrocious the food was at Hogwarts. Nothing every actually _tasted_ of anything.”

Harry laughed at Draco’s description of their shared memory. “It was far better that I was used to with the Dursleys,” Harry replied, twisting a twist of linguine around his fork. “But this was really simple to make. I could teach you to cook it if you wanted. It’d be my pleasure… I could bring the ingredients over. Or you could come to mine. Whatever you liked.”

Draco was quiet for a moment. “I’d like that. Food was such a taboo subject at home. Father forbade me from visiting the kitchens… Said that it was an Elvish space and a _‘wizard of good breeding shouldn’t concern himself with such trivialities’_. That was Lucius all over: good at filling me head with all manner of nonsensical rules but rather less good at actual parenting.”

“Well, I’d love to teach you to cook,” Harry replied, placing his knife and fork together with a clatter on his now-empty plate. “It’d be a laugh. No magic allowed, either. We could start at mine this weekend, if you were free? I know my place is a bit scruffier than here, but-”

“But I’d love to,” Draco interrupted, the effect of the wine making him feel giddy and brave. “I love what you’ve done with Grimmauld Place. So different to when I was small. Honestly, Harry I was so terrified of the place. Mother used to have to bribe me to visit the Blacks. It just feels warm and inviting. Feels like you, Harry. It’s got your personality. Not like _this_ place. I haven’t made it mine at all.”

Harry looked thoughtful as he swirled his wand. Their empty plates levitated smoothly upwards and flew tidily over to the sink. “Well, I like your home, Draco. Orderly, elegant and refined. Just like the person who happens to live here. But truthfully, love, it doesn’t matter where we spend our time- or what we’re doing, really- as long as we’re spending it together.” Harry leaned back in his chair and looked at Draco with his wide, sea-glass eyes. “I just enjoy being around you.”

Well, that answer was certainly a surprise. Draco knew he was falling for his lovely new boyfriend, falling deeper and faster by the day, but he’d never dreamt that the feelings might be reciprocated. Harry was experienced, popular and confident, three things that Draco thought he lacked. Maybe it was the wine speaking, or perhaps Harry’s innate Gryffindor bravery. Draco wasn’t sure but that didn’t matter. Harry enjoyed being with him, and Draco felt his heart swell in happiness with the idea.

He leaned over the table, meeting Harry halfway. Harry’s lips tasted like red wine, and were soft and pliable beneath his own. Draco lost himself in the tender and unexpectedly sensual kiss, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions coursing through his body. 

~@~

“Harry,” Draco whispered, breaking their kiss, “I’m having such a wonderful evening. The food. This… You don’t have to rush off do you? Have you got anywhere you need to be-”

“Nowhere,” Harry replied, cupping Draco’s jaw. “I’ve nothing planned for later, and if I had I’d cancel. There’s no place I’d rather be than here. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” Harry brushed a small kiss across Draco’s forehead. “I don’t even have to leave if you don’t want me to… Am I being too forward? Nothing has to happen, though. Not if you’re not ready.”

Draco shook his head, giving Harry a small smile. “I’d like that. I’d love you to stay. You’re not being too forward at all.” He looped a hand around Harry’s waist and slid in closer. “Even if lovemaking isn’t on the agenda tonight… I was wondering, _if_… If maybe we could kiss some more? Like we were before dinner? And see where it leads? We’ve been together three months and, well… I enjoy being around you too.”

Draco felt his face flushing at his unexpected confession. He half-wondered whether Harry might tease him gently for his awkwardness but when he looked into his boyfriends eyes all Draco saw was arousal and want. “_Merlin_. I’d like that,” Harry said, his voice a rumble from deep within his chest. “Let’s move back to the settee Draco. When I promised to look after you, I always meant to do a thorough job.” 

Draco stood, and led Harry shyly though to the next room. He didn’t really have much of a clue as to what Harry might serve up for their dessert but Draco knew one thing for certain. If it were anything like as delicious as their main course then it looked set to be quite the memorable evening indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


End file.
